The Observer is the Observed

Bombay, India. Public Talk 21st March, 1948

I think I will answer questions mostly this evening, but before I do so I would like to make one or two remarks. Next Sunday will be the last talk, and there will be no talks thereafter. The discussions will end on the 28th.

There is a tendency, I think, especially among those who have read a great deal and have experienced according to their reading, to translate what I say in terms of their old knowledge. It is like putting new wine in old bottles. When one puts new wine in old bottles, the new wine ferments and breaks the bottle. That is generally what happens. Similarly, perhaps, those who have read along a particular line are apt to translate what I say according to their previous knowledge, and I think it is a mistake merely to translate or put into the old language what one hears. Because, merely to translate what you hear into old terminologies does not bring about understanding. It makes one classify, pigeonhole what one hears, which really prevents understanding. What brings understanding is direct comprehension - not comprehension through the old language, the old terminology, the old words, with their specific meanings. So, if I may suggest, it will be beneficial and worthwhile to listen and comprehend directly, without translating what is said into your particular terminology of usage of words. Most of us have accumulated knowledge, and according to that knowledge, we act. But self-knowledge is different; self-knowledge is not accumulative, residual knowledge, but it demands constant alertness, watchfulness. The moment we accumulate knowledge, it becomes a burden; and where there is a burden, a weight, travelling becomes impossible or very difficult. Whereas, self-knowledge, the knowledge of the whole total process of oneself, does not demand any previous knowledge at all. On the contrary, where there is previous knowledge, there is bound to be misunderstanding, misinterpretation, and mistranslation. It is like taking a journey: as you proceed, you begin to understand the country, the scenery. Or, you dig a well, and drink the waters of that well. Similarly, self-knowledge is not accumulative, it is a constant movement, it is knowledge from moment to moment, always living, always a discovery, always creative. It is only when there is accumulation, when there are residual remains which become memory, that knowledge is an impediment to creative living, creative being. After all, the knowledge that we have is technical, is it not? We do not accumulate knowledge about ourselves. If we do, it is the memory of what other people have said, or what we have learnt in books, or it is a repetition of words, merely the hearsay of another. Very few of us have self-knowledge, the knowledge of what one actually is. Most of us live superficially. It may be likened to an iceberg: only one tenth of it shows on the surface, the rest is below the water. Similarly, we live one-tenth on the surface, and we are very agitated; our activities, our social, political, religious existence, is all on the surface. We never go below and enquire into the depths, where most of our existence really is. But to enquire deeply, profoundly, there must be this constant discovery. First, obviously, there must be the knowledge of our superficial daily actions, daily thoughts, daily feelings. When those are understood, then one can penetrate deeper and deeper into that total process which is the `I', the `you'. And that discovery does not demand previous knowledge; on the contrary, previous knowledge becomes a hindrance. The more you dig, the more you understand, and the art of understanding does not lie in accumulation, in memory. Surely, understanding comes from moment to moment, when the mind is fresh, pliable, alert, passive. In that state, understanding comes silently and swiftly - or slowly, depending on the pliability, the sensitivity, the quickness of the mind.

So, self-knowledge is not knowledge which is accumulated. Where there is accumulation, there cannot be discovery and therefore right thinking, true thinking, which is from moment to moment. True action is from moment to moment, not disciplined according to a pattern, an example, or according to an ideal with an end or a result in view. If you will experiment with this, you will discover that self-knowledge is a constant renewal, not an end to be gained or achieved. It is a constant movement in the journey of self-discovery. The deeper, the more swiftly, the mind is able to penetrate, the more it is capable of discovery, and the more there is bliss, there is joy, in that discovery.

I have several questions, and I will answer as many of them as possible.

Question: What is it that comes when nationalism goes?

Krishnamurti: Obviously, intelligence. But I am afraid that is not the implication in this question. The implication is, what can be substituted for nationalism? Any substitution is an act which does not bring intelligence. If I leave one religion and join another, or leave one political party and later on join something else, this constant substitution indicates a state in which there is no intelligence,

Now, how does nationalism go? Only by understanding its full implications, by examining it, by being aware of its significance in outward and inward action. Outwardly it brings about divisions between people, classifications, wars and destruction, which is obvious to anyone who is observant. Inwardly, psychologically, this identification with the greater, with the country, with an idea, is obviously a form of self-expansion. That is, living in a little village, or a big town, or whatever it be, I am nobody; but if I identify myself with the larger, with the country, if I call myself a Hindu, it flatters my vanity, it gives me gratification, prestige, a sense of well being; and that identification with the larger, which is a psychological necessity for those who feel that self-expansion is essential, also creates conflict, strife, between people. So, nationalism not only creates outward conflict, but inward frustrations; and when one understands nationalism, the whole process of nationalism, it falls away. The understanding of nationalism comes through intelligence. That is, by carefully observing, by probing into the whole process of nationalism, patriotism, out of that examination comes intelligence, and then there is no substitution of something else for nationalism. The moment you substitute religion for nationalism, religion becomes another means of self expansion, another source of psychological anxiety, a means of feeding oneself through a belief. Therefore, any form of substitution, however noble, is a form of ignorance. It is like a man substituting chewing gum, or betel nut, or whatever it is, for smoking. Whereas, if one really understands the whole problem of smoking, of habits, sensations, psychological demands, and all the rest of it, then smoking drops away. You can understand only when there is a development of in- telligence, when intelligence is functioning; and intelligence is not functioning when there is substitution. Substitution is merely a form of self-bribery, to tempt you not to do this but to do that. Nationalism, with its poison, with its misery and world strife, can disappear only when there is intelligence, and intelligence does not come merely by passing examinations and studying books. Intelligence comes into being when we understand problems as they arise. When there is understanding of the problem at its different levels, not only of the outward part, but of its inward, psychological implications, then, in that process, intelligence comes into being. So, when there is intelligence, there is no substitution; and when there is intelligence, then nationalism, patriotism, which is a form of stupidity, disappears.

Question: What is the difference between awareness and introspection? And who is aware in awareness?

Krishnamurti: Let us first examine what we mean by introspection. We mean by introspection, looking within oneself, examining oneself. Now, why does one examine oneself? In order to improve, in order to change, in order to modify. That is, you introspect in order to become something, otherwise you would not indulge in introspection. You would not examine yourself if there were not the desire to modify, change, to become something other than what you are. Surely, that is the obvious reason for introspection. I am angry, and I introspect, examine myself, in order to get rid of anger, or to modify or change anger. Now, where there is introspection, which is the desire to modify or change the responses, the reactions of the self, there is always an end in view; and when that end is not achieved, there is moodiness, depression. So, introspection invariably goes with depression. I don't know if you have noticed that when you introspect, when you look into yourself in order to change yourself, there is always a wave of depression. There is always a moody wave which you have to battle against; you have to examine yourself again in order to overcome that mood, and so on. Introspection is a process in which there is no release, because it is a process of transforming what is into something which it is not. Obviously, that is exactly what is taking place when we introspect, when we indulge in that peculiar action. In that action, there is always an accumulative process, the `I' examining something in order to change it. So, there is always a dualistic conflict, and therefore a process of frustration. There is never a release; and realizing that frustration, there is depression.

Now, awareness is entirely different. Awareness is observation without condemnation. Awareness brings understanding, because there is no condemnation or identification, but silent observation. Surely, if I want to understand something, I must observe, I must not criticize, I must not condemn, I must not pursue it as pleasure or avoid it as non-pleasure. There must merely be the silent observation of a fact. There is no end in view, but awareness of everything as it arises. That observation and the understanding of that observation cease when there is condemnation, identification, or justification. Introspection is self-improvement, and therefore introspection is self-centredness. Awareness is not self-improvement. On the contrary, it is the ending of the self, of the `I', with all its peculiar idiosyncrasies, memories, demands and pursuits. In introspection, there is identification and condemnation. In awareness, there is no condemnation or identification; therefore, there is no self-improvement. There is a vast difference between the two. The man who wants to improve himself can never be aware, because improvement implies condemnation and the achievement of a result. Whereas, in awareness, there is observation without condemnation, without denial or acceptance. That awareness begins with outward things, being aware, being in contact with objects, with nature. First, there is awareness of things about one, being sensitive to objects, to nature, then to people, which means relationship, and then there is awareness of ideas. This awareness, being sensitive to things, to nature, to people, to ideas, is not made up of separate processes, but is one unitary process. It is a constant observation of everything, of every thought and feeling and action as they arise within oneself. And as awareness is not condemnatory, there is no accumulation. You condemn only when you have a standard, which means there is accumulation, and therefore improvement of the self. Awareness is to understand the activities of the self, the `I', in its relationship with people, with ideas, and with things. That awareness is from moment to moment, and therefore it cannot be practiced. When you practise a thing, it becomes a habit; and awareness is not habit. A mind that is habitual is insensitive, a mind that is functioning within the groove of a particular action is dull, unplayable; whereas, awareness demands constant pliability, alertness. This is not difficult. It is what you all do when you are interested in something, when you are interested in watching your child, your wife, your plants, trees, birds. You observe without condemnation, without identification; therefore, in that observation, there is complete communion, the observer and the observed are completely in communion. This actually takes place when you are deeply, profoundly interested in something. So, there is a vast difference between awareness, and the self-expansive improvement of introspection. The one, which is introspection, leads to frustration, to further and greater conflict; whereas, awareness is a process of release from the action of the self; it is to be aware of your daily movements, of your thoughts, of your actions, and to be aware of another, to observe him. You can do that only when you love somebody, when you are deeply interested in something; and when I want to know myself, my whole being, the whole content of myself and not just one or two layers, then there obviously must be no condemnation. Then I must be open to every thought, to every feeling, to all the moods, to all the suppressions; and as there is more and more expansive awareness, there is greater and greater freedom from all the hidden movement of thoughts, motives and pursuits. So, awareness is freedom, it brings freedom, it yields freedom. Whereas, introspection cultivates conflict, the process of self-enclosure; therefore in it there is always frustration and fear.

The questioner also wants to know who is aware. Now, when you have a profound experience of any kind, what is taking place? When there is such an experience, are you aware that you are experiencing? When you are angry, at the split second of anger or of jealousy or of joy, are you aware that you are joyous or that you are angry? It is only when the experience is over that there is the experiencer and the experienced. Then the experiencer observes the experienced, the object of experience. But at the moment of experi- ence, there is neither the observer nor the observed: there is only the experiencing. Now, most of us are not experiencing. We are always outside the state of experiencing, and therefore we ask this question as to who is the observer, who is it that is aware. Surely, such a question is a wrong question, is it not? The moment there is experiencing, there is neither the person who is aware nor the object of which he is aware. There is neither the observer nor the observed, but only a state of experiencing. Most of us find it is extremely difficult to live in a state of experiencing, because that demands an extraordinary pliability, a quickness, a high degree of sensitivity; and that is denied when we are pursuing a result, when we want to succeed, when we have an end in view, when we are calculating - all of which brings frustration. But a man who does not demand anything, who is not seeking an end, who is not searching out a result with all its implications, such a man is in a state of constant experiencing. Everything then has a movement, a meaning, and nothing is old; nothing is charred, nothing is repetitive, because what is, is never old. The challenge is always new. It is only the response to the challenge that is old; and the old creates further residue, which is memory, the observer, who separates himself from the observed, from the challenge, from the experience. You can experiment with this for yourself very simply and very easily. Next time you are angry or jealous or greedy or violent or whatever it be, watch yourself. In that state, `you' are not. There is only that state of being. But the moment, the second afterwards, you term it, you name it, you call it jealousy, anger, greed. So, you have created immediately the observer and the observed, the experiencer and the experienced. When there is the experiencer and the experienced, then the experiencer tries to modify the experience, change it, remember things about it, and so on, and therefore maintains the division between himself and the experienced. But if you don't name that feeling - which means, you are not seeking a result, you are not condemning, you are merely silently aware of the feeling - , then you will see that in that state of feeling, of experiencing there is no observer and no observed; because, the observer and the observed are a joint phenomenon, and there is only experiencing. So, introspection and awareness are entirely different. Introspection leads to frustration, to further conflict, for in it is implied the desire for change, and change is merely a modified continuity. Whereas, awareness is a state in which there is no condemnation, no justification or identification, and therefore there is understanding; and in that state of passive, alert awareness, there is neither the experiencer nor the experienced.

Sir, what I am saying is not very difficult, though you may find it verbally difficult. But you will notice, when you yourself are interested in something very gravely and very deeply, this actually takes place. You are so completely submerged in the thing in which you are interested that there is no exclusion, no concentration. Introspection, which is a form of self-improvement, of self-expansion, can never lead to truth, because it is always a process of self-enclosure; whereas, awareness is a state in which truth can come into being, the truth of what is, the simple truth of daily existence. It is only when we understand the truth of daily existence that we can go far. You must begin near to go far; but most of us want to jump, to begin far without understanding what is close. As we under- stand the near, we will find the distance between the near and the far is not. There is no distance - the beginning and the end are one.

Question: Is marriage a need or a luxury?

Krishnamurti: Now, let us examine the problem, the question. Why do we marry? First, obviously, because of biological necessity, the sexual urge, which society has legalized by marriage. Society wants to protect the children and not have them illegitimate, because it looks upon illegitimate children with horror. Therefore, marriage is legalized. But surely, that is not the only reason why we marry. We marry because of psychological demands. I need a companion, somebody I can posses, dominate, somebody I can call mine. I can do with my wife what I like, she is subordinate to man - in this country, not in America. Here, the marriage system has made the woman a slave, to be protected, controlled, dominated, possessed. Don't look at somebody else, Sirs; you are all involved in it. Woman is a possession; as I possess property, so I possess my wife. I possess her sexually and dominate her outwardly. Psychologically, possession gives me comfort, security: my property, my wife, my children - the horror of it all. We treat human beings as we treat material goods, without any consideration; because, once I possess you legally, you are under me. So, society legalizes marriage in order to perpetuate the race, to hold it within limits; but psychologically, inwardly, I can do what I like. And you know the whole business of existence, the horrors, the agonies, the miseries, of those who are married and who don't love each other. How can there be love when there is possessiveness? And if you don't marry, what happens? I have seen that in several countries; there is what is called companionate marriage. Don't look shocked. Again, if there is no love, companionate marriage becomes an easy way out for your sexual appetite and irresponsibility. So, without love, both are a horror. But society does not care two pins whether there is love or not; and as most of us are so concentrated, so engrossed in our business life, in making money or whatever it be, as we are ruthless in our business and cruel in the world, how can we possibly have love for anyone at home? You cannot on the one hand exploit your neighbour, starve him out, suck the blood out of him, and then go home and have affection for your wife. No, Sirs, you cannot do both. But that is what you are trying to do, and that is why you have no love. That is why marriage throughout the world is such a miserable affair.

Marriage is also a form of self-perpetuation. I want continuity through my children. Therefore, children become very important, not in themselves, but for my own continuity - my name, my class, my caste. You know the whole business. And naturally, when you are merely using children for your own continuity, there is no love. How can there be when you are more interested in your own continuity through them, than in loving them, whatever they are? Therefore, tradition and name become very important, because they are the means of perpetuating yourself through your children.

So, to understand this problem, to find out what it involves, we must study it, go into it. In studying there comes intelligence, and only intelligence and love can deal with this problem, not legislation. The moment I possess a person, he becomes a prostitute; that is, the per- son becomes important, not for himself, but because in myself I am empty, starving, ugly, I am insufficient, poor, so I use another - my wife, my employer, or whoever it be - to cover my inward emptiness. Therefore, the possessed becomes important as a means of escape from my own loneliness; and naturally I grow jealous, envious, when the other, who is helping me to escape from myself, looks at somebody else. So to understand all this human process, which is extremely complex and subtle, one must have intelligence. Intelligence is also love, not mere intellect; and we cannot have love if, on the one hand, we are ruthless in our business, in everyday life, and on the other, try to be gentle, tender and merciful. You cannot do both, you cannot be an ambitious rich man and yet be loving and tender. You cannot be a captain of industry, or a big politician, and yet be merciful. The two don't go together. And it is only when there is love, mercy - which is intelligence, the highest form of intelligence - that this problem can be solved. We are human beings, whether men or women; we are alive, sensitive, we are not doormats to be trampled upon, used sexually or mentally for self-gratification. The moment we regard each other as human beings, as individuals, not as something to be possessed, then there is a possibility of understanding and of going beyond this conflict that exists between two people in marriage,

Question: Who is he that feeds you if not an exploiter? How are you free from exploitation, since you exploit an exploiter?

Krishnamurti: Now, what do we mean by exploitation? Obviously, using another for one's own gratification, which is principally psychological. When I use another psychologically, then I am really exploiting him; and most of our exploitation in the world - the rich exploiting the poor, the leader exploiting the led, the follower exploiting the leader, and so on - is essentially based on inward demands, on psychological poverty of being. There will be no outward exploitation of man by man when there is a cessation of the inner and entirely psychological demand to use another - whether it be your wife, a labourer, or the man in the office - as a means to enrich yourself. After all, you gather money, prestige, as a means of self-expansion; but you are content with little, with the necessities of life, when you are inwardly rich, when you don't depend upon another as a means of covering up your own psychological demands and emptiness. So, exploitation obviously begins when we use another psychologically as a means of self expansion.

Now, the questioner asks me if I am not exploiting the exploiter. I don't think I am. I am fed by him, as I would be if I went out and earned money. I am not using him as a psychological necessity, nor am I using you, the audience, the individual, in order to expand myself. Therefore, I am not your leader and you are not my follower. I don't need you psychologically, and I have tested this out for myself by not getting on a platform and by ceasing to talk. So, as I would go out and earn money for my needs, I am talking; and for that I am clothed and fed. But as society is constructed at the present time, its whole structure is based on exploitation, which is using another psychologically as a means of self-expansion; and there are only a very few thoughtful people who don't care to use another as a means of self-expansion, and who therefore cease to exploit. Surely, exploitation means far more than exploiting the labourer. The basis of all exploitation is the psychological demand to use another as a means of self-expansion, as a means of aggression and self-perpetuation. So, where there is no self-expansion, where there is not the use of another psychologically, there is no exploitation. That means you are content with little, not because of an ideal, but because inwardly there is a treasure, there is beauty, ecstasy. But without that inward simplicity, merely to don a loin cloth means nothing; because, you may outwardly have but one cloth, while inwardly you are using and therefore exploiting people. We give so much importance to outward exploitation; the communist, the socialist, everybody is trying to stop outward exploitation. It does not mean that that is wrong; but we should attack the inward causes of exploitation, which are much more complex, much more subtle, and that cannot be done through mere legislation. That is why it is very important for the individual to transform himself. And the transformation of the individual, you and me, is not a question of time. It must be done now. Because, when you transform yourself, the world will be transformed. The world is the place where you live, it is your relationships, your values; and it can be affected immediately when there is a deep, inward revolution in you. And this inward revolution can take place only when you as an individual are not using another for your self-expansion, for your gratification, for your comfort.

Question: Is not stilling the mind a prerequisite for the solution of a problem, and is not the dissolution of a problem a condition of mental stillness?

Krishnamurti: There are two questions involved in this, so we will take them one by one. "Is not stilling the mind a prerequisite for the solution of a problem?" It all depends on what you call the mind. The mind is not just the superficial layer; consciousness is not merely that dull action of the mind. Obviously, when there is a problem which is created by the superficial mind, the superficial mind has to become quiet in order to understand it. You do that anyhow, it happens in daily life. When you have a business problem, what do you do? You switch off the telephone, you stop your secretary if you have one, and you observe, study the problem - which means your mind is free from other worries. Your superficial mind is concerned with the problem, which means that it has become still. But the superficial mind does not include the whole content of the mind. Your whole consciousness has not become still; only the superficial layer, which is constantly in agitation, has become temporarily quiet.

"And is not the dissolution of a problem a condition of mental stillness?" Obviously. It is only when every problem is completely understood - which means that the problem leaves no residue, no scar, no memory - that the mind becomes still. Consciousness, as we have said, is a process of experiencing, naming or terming, and recording, which is memory. So, consciousness is a process of challenge and response, naming and recording, or memory. That is the whole process of consciousness. The recording, the naming, the experiencing, can be suppressed, held down in one of the deep layers of consciousness; but until that suppression is raised, either through dreams, through action, or through unearthing that hidden thing, there cannot be stillness of the mind. A mind which has many hidden drawers, hidden cupboards with innumerable skeletons held down by will, by denial, by suppression, how can such a mind be still? It can be driven, willed to be still; but is that stillness? A man who is hanging on to passion, who is lustful and has suppressed it, held it down, how can such a man have a calm, still, rich mind? A man who is tortured by ambition and therefore frustrated, and who tries to fly from that frustration through every means of escape, how can such a man have a still mind? It is only when ambition is understood, when the problems of ambition, with its frustrations, with its conflicts, with its ruthlessness, have been understood, that the mind becomes quiet. By looking into oneself deeply, opening all the cupboards, all the drawers, unearthing all the skeletons and understanding them, then the mind becomes quiet. You cannot have stillness of mind with locked doors. You may still the mind by will, which is an easy escape; but a mind that is made still by the action of will is a dead mind, it is insensitive, it has been brutalized by the action of the will. It is only by giving full freedom to every movement of thought and understanding it - which does not mean licentiousness, evil actions, and so on - , only by understanding the whole content of your being, that the mind becomes still. Then it is not made still; tranquillity comes to it naturally, easily, swiftly. It is like a pond which becomes serene, without a ripple, when the breezes stop. Similarly, the mind becomes extraordinarily quiet, without a movement, absolutely still, when the problems are dissolved.

Now, problems are created by the thinker separating himself from his thought, the actor from his action, thereby giving importance to the actor, to the thinker. And stillness comes to the mind only through self-knowledge - not through denial of the self or acceptance of the self, but through understanding every movement, every thought, every feeling of the self, both the high and the low. The high and the low is a false division the mind has indulged in. There is only thought, which divides itself as the high and the low; and to understand thought, the whole process of thought, one must have self-knowledge. That means every thought must be understood, felt out, without condemnation. There must be silent, swift awareness; and out of that self-knowledge there comes an extraordinary quietness, a stillness that is creative, a stillness in which reality comes into being. But to pursue stillness and to cultivate stillness destroys that creative reality, because you are pursuing stillness, exercising your will to become still. as a means of getting a result, of obtaining something. A man who is seeking a result, an end, who is trying to acquire truth by forcing the mind, by making it still, will never find that reality. He is only dulling himself, escaping from the cupboards, from the skeletons that are holding him. It is only by inviting sorrow that you can understand reality, not by escaping from tribulations.

Question: Since the motive power in the search for truth is interest, what creates interest? What creates interest in a relevant question? Is it suffering?

Krishnamurti: Obviously, where there is no interest, there is no search. Where there is no interest, there may be control, domination, effort; but there is search, enquiry, only where there is interest. That very search is devotion. Devotion is not a separate path to reality. Where there is search, there is action; and there is no separate path of karma yoga. Because, where there is enquiry, there is action, and that very search brings wisdom. So, interest is essential; and how does interest come into being? Interest comes into being, obviously, when you are suffering, when you want to know what are the causes of suffering because you are caught in it, or because you see another caught in it. Surely, there is no other way but the way of sorrow. But when you suffer, you seek remedies, palliatives, escapes, gurus, which dissipates your enquiry into suffering. When you are worried, when you are suffering, your instinct is to run away from it, to take flight from it, to seek a verbal explanation or any other means to get away from it. Whereas, if you observe suffering without escaping, without condemning it - which is extremely arduous - , then you will find that it begins to tell you extraordinary things, it begins to reveal untold treasures. So, your difficulty is not that you don't suffer, but that you dissipate your energies in trying to overcome suffering. What is overcome has to be overcome again and again, and therefore you go on suffering. Suffering does not lead to intelligence when you try to overcome it; whereas, if you begin to understand it, then it leads you to intelligence. And if you examine is yourself, you will see that when there is suffering you want a hand to hold you, a guru to tell you what to do; or you turn on the radio, you escape to the cinema or the racecourse, or you do innumerable things - you pray, you do puja, to get away from the suffering, from the actual throbbing pain. These are all means of dissipating your energies; but if you don't do any of them, what happens? There is suffering, and the paralysis of that suffering; then, in the silence of that suffering, when the mind is no longer escaping, you are living with suffering. You are not condemning it, you are not identifying yourself with it, therefore it begins to reveal its causes. You have not searched out its causes - to search out the cause of suffering is another form of escape. Whereas, if you are simply aware of suffering without condemnation, the cause of that suffering is revealed. Then suffering begins to unfold its story chapter by chapter, and you see all the implications; and the more you read the book of suffering, the greater the wisdom. Therefore, when you escape from suffering, you are really escaping from wisdom. Wisdom can be found in any sorrow; you don't have to have great crises. Wisdom is there for him who seeks, who does not shun, who does not escape, who does not take flight, but who is passively, alertly, aware of what is. In that alert, passive awareness, the full meaning of what is, is understood. When it is understood, truth comes into being; and it is truth that frees one from sorrow, it is truth that gives bliss, it is truth that gives freedom, and in that state, sorrow is completely dissolved. As sorrow is negative, sorrow must be approached negatively; any positive action towards sorrow is an escape. It is only through the highest form of thinking, which is negative thinking, that there is understanding; and where there is understanding, there is stillness, there is tranquillity. Then truth frees thought from all problems.

The Observer is the Observed

Bombay, India. Public Talk 21st March, 1948

Jiddu Krishnamurti texts. The Observer Is the Observed. Contains reports of spontaneous discourses about life and reality, given at different times between 1945 and 1948.